XBC
by Roth
Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens. TVverse
1. Chapter I: Guilt

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers- What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash (Like the other day, someone bit me).

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: This is my first major endeavor since I finished _Blood Relatives _over a year ago. The whole story is written, but only the first three chapters are typed and edited. I'm hoping to post chapter each day (Hoping). The first four chapters are very short. Five is the firs long one. Please remember: I am my own beta and this is not a slash. This is also my first _Dresden Files _fic. Please enjoy.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter I: Guilt

_"We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life."  
-C3P0, Star Wars_

He knew when Justin Morningway gave him back his body it would only be for a short while. He'd been expecting his former master to have something up his sleeve to avoid death, but a double programmed only to bring back the real Morningway, and a plot to use Harry as a battery was not what he expected.

Bob felt guilty; he almost considered keeping his body until he learned what would happen to Harry if he did. The ghost was afraid he was going to give himself away by being so adamant on not using his friend, but the Morningway-lite seemed to believe that Bob was on his side. Unfortunately, his great performance also made Harry fully believe Bob had turned against him. The look on Harry's face almost made him break his facade. He managed to remain, in what he guessed would be, "in character."

He never wanted to see Justin Morning alive again. Even if he still practiced black magic, he would never have wanted to see Justin Morningway alive again. Bob, unfortunately, knew that there was no other way. There was one way to make sure Justin Morningway stayed dead, and that was to bring him back and kill him again; that would take care of the double and the real one.

His former master tossed him Harry's hockey stick, and Bob prepared himself for the spell. He knew that if things did not go exactly right, he could possibly kill Harry. It didn't matter that he was killing himself by doing this, both literally and figuratively.

When the spell was complete, Bob watched the reanimated body of Justin Morningway sit up in the coffin, but from the corner of his eye, he saw that Harry was barely holding onto consciousness. It would only be a few minutes before he would fade completely which did not leave Bob a lot of time.

He watched the double climb into the coffin and let out its last "breath." The real Justin Morningway was still pacing the room, berating Harry for having a soul and making the typical bad guy speech. Bob had to wait until Morningway was distracted. If Morningway was at all prepared, well, Bob was pretty sure that neither he nor Harry would be leaving the morgue alive, very little irony in that.

Morningway stood over Harry talking about what a pity it was that Harry would not see what he was going to make the world; Bob knew the time had come.

"Change of Plans!"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter II: Sleep

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: I'm halfway through having chapter five typed, and I'm about to start editing chapter three. I promise, the chapters are going to get much longer. This is just the set up.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter II: Sleep

_"Life is a tragedy for those who feel, but a comedy to those who think."  
-Horace Walpole_

Harry's uncle liked the sound of his own voice; he'd always had. It seemed like he was trying to make up for the five years of silence in the first few minutes, and Harry wished he would just shut up. If he had to die, let him die in peace, or at least let him try to block out the fact Bob had done this. How could someone who he'd always believed was his friend since he was a kid do this? Did Bob really hate him that much?

Harry felt his eyes start to slip close, and he was beginning to wonder if death was going to be like falling asleep; he could handle that. Harry barely comprehended Bob's voice saying, "Change of plans!" Through practically closed eyes, Harry saw energy spike from his uncle, who was screaming in pain, to himself. He was expecting pain too, but instead, his own energy came back to him in a flood. Harry managed to roll off the table and quickly pulled the ties off his legs. Looking up, Harry saw it Bob was who attacked his uncle, and energy was flowing from him, through the hockey stick, and into his uncle.

"_It's going to kill him!"_ thought Harry. "Bob! Bob, let go!" The gag muffled his words and he shouted again as he removed it. "Bob, let go!" He finally got the gag off as his uncle vanished into the energy coming from his hockey stick. Bob dropped the stick, and Harry knew, before he saw, that the now ex-ghost was going to fall. "Bob! Bob!" Harry pushed himself to his feet and ran to catch his friend.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter III: No Choice

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: Okay, another short one, but only one more like this and then they get long...er. I have this thing about putting quotes in front of stories and chapters. I've got a life theme going for this story. Still my own beta. These are still my mistakes.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter III: No Choice

_Someone said to Voltaire, "Life is hard." Voltaire replied, "Compared to what?"_

Bob's legs felt like rubber. For the first time in 700 years, his legs felt like rubber; it was not a pleasant feeling. He started falling and in a second he expected to feel the cold tile of the morgue floor. Instead, a pair of arms caught him before he hit. Considering Morningway was dead, the only logical person was Harry, but since Bob had almost killed him, that seemed unlikely. Whoever had caught him pulled his already aching body up off the floor. He cracked his eyes open and saw Harry's worried face.

"Is that-is that bastard gone?" asked Bob through clenched teeth.

Harry hoisted him up a little more. "Yeah, he's gone. I thought you just turned on me."

"I-I would never betray you, Harry." He gave Bob a partial smile. "I had to come this far in order to keep him dead." Bob shook his head slightly. "Him and his double, they'd-they'd just keep coming back."

The ache in his body suddenly turned into a sharp pain in his chest. Involuntarily, he tried to curl up. Pain was something he never missed; that was about the only good thing about being a ghost.

Bob suddenly realized that Harry was trying to get him to relax. "It's okay, Bob. It's okay. You're gonna be okay. Okay? You're gonna be okay."

Bob let out a soft chuckle. "If by okay you mean dead, then yes." Every bit of energy he'd managed to hold onto after destroying Morningway seemed to be fading fast. "Yes…yes…"

He faintly heard Harry say, "Please don't die on me, Bob." He hated to tell his young friend that he had no other choice.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter IV: Hold On

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: Hey, everyone. There might be a bit of a delay in postings. Chapter five still isn't typed. Sorry, but here is number four. Enjoy!

**X.B.C.**

Chapter IV: Hold On

_"To save a man's life against his will is the same as killing him."  
-Horace Mann_

"Please don't die on me, Bob," pleaded Harry, watching his friend start to go limp. Panic surged through him; he could not-no, would not let this happen. It took him all of two seconds to rack his brain and and decide what to do. A while back-three or four years-Bob had shown him (or more so told him where to look) a healing spell. He couldn't remember it precisely-Bob was always getting on him about precision-but he did know the basics and that it required some of his own energy. He'd already had his energy ripped out of him once that day; why not a second time?

Although spells were supposed to be precise, the other half of spellwork was feeling, and to Harry, the spell _felt_ like it was going right. Bob wasn't conscious-not that Harry was expecting him to be-but he was still breathing. He may even have been breathing little easier, and that was a good thing.

Harry stayed there for a few more minutes, and when he as sure Bob was going to be okay-at least for the time being-Harry readjusted his rip on his friend and slowly got both of them off the floor.

He threw Bob's arm his shoulders and his own arm around Bob's waist. It was going to be one hell of a trip getting them both out of the morgue.

Bob was dead weight, and Harry was worried that he wasn't going to be able to get the two of them out before someone saw. Harry stumbled several times and nearly fell once, but luckily, Bob was shorter than him which made it considerably easier getting out.

When Harry finally got them both outside, it dawned on him that he had no way to get Bob and himself anywhere. He could call a cab, but that posed two problems: one, he had no money, and two, no cab driver would pick up him and a man who looked half-dead.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a familiar looking vehicle down the street. He turned his head quickly and saw his jeep parked along side the road. It suddenly occurred to Harry that his uncle's double and Bob had to have gotten to the morgue somehow. He half-carried half-dragged Bob down to the jeep.

Without a thought, Harry tested the passenger side door; he sighed in relief when he found it unlocked. With waning strength, Harry got Bob into the passenger seat and then took a moment to check his breathing and pulse, which was something Harry never planned on doing for Bob. His breathing wasn't any better than earlier, but his pulse was steady, even if it wasn't very strong.

Harry struggled to pull the seatbelt across his friend and then ran around to the driver's side. After getting in, Harry found a small blessing in his keys still being in the ignition. It was only after Harry was driving down the street that he thought about where he was going to go. Bob was seriously hurt, but he couldn't take him to a hospital; a seven century old dead sorcerer suddenly brought back to life who has bizarre injuries was not going to attract the kind of attention Harry wanted. His house seemed like the best option. Besides, somewhere in the lab was that healing spell, and Harry knew Bob wouldn't hold on for much longer without the spell being done right.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter V: Winded

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers- What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: So I have changed the ending of What About Bob a bit (well a lot) to fit my story. More explanations will come later. I told you I would finally get a long chapter up. I hope you enjoy. Still my own beta.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter V: Winded

"_Statistically, you're dead now. You're understand what that means? A man aimed a gun at your head and fired. The fact that you survived is an anomaly, and it's unlikely to be the outcome of a second such encounter." Charlie "Numb3rs"_

Getting Bob out of the morgue was a walk in the park compared to getting Bob up the stairs to Harry's bed. Lifting someone who is dead weight vertically is not an easy task, but Harry managed to get his friend into the bed. He had considered putting Bob on the couch, but that just seemed kind of mean. After catching his breath for a second, Harry hurried down to the lab; he was mentally trying to picture what the book looked like and its placement in the lab.

Harry burst through the heavy metal door and began frantically searching the bookshelves for the old book. He was practically tearing the lab apart, and Bob was going to be furious, but he would deal with that later. The book was tucked behind a box of miscellaneous charms, and Harry's heart soared with relief when he saw it.

He yanked it off the shelf and quickly began searching for the spell; all he remembered was that it was toward the middle. After several minutes of frantic page turning, Harry found the spell. He read it through twice and then gathered its requirements from around the lab, which wasn't easy because nothing was in its correct spot anymore. Gathering the spell's requirements and the book in his arms, Harry left the lab and went back up to his loft. He made sure Bob's breathing and pulse were still okay and got to work setting up the spell. When it came to the part of getting an object from the subject, Harry paused. The only thing he could think of that was "Bob's" was his skull; he froze. Bob's skull was still at the morgue. With a groan of frustration, Harry pushed the skull to the back of his mind; he would have to deal with it later, too. Harry pulled one of the buttons off the cuff of Bob's shirt and started the spell.

Healing spells, for a person who wasn't a healer or couldn't heal themselves, were difficult and dangerous things to do. When done right, they could heal or even save a person's life, but if they were done wrong, well, it wasn't good for either party. What Harry had done back at the lab had been risky, especially considering he couldn't even remember what the spell required. The sooner he was able to do the spell properly, the better.

Throughout the entire spell, pessimistic thoughts tugged at the back of Harry's mind. What would he do it Bob died? The ghost had been his teacher and mentor since he was eleven, but he'd also been his friend. Whether it had been by choice or the simple fact Harry was the owner of the skull didn't matter; the long dead sorcerer was still Harry's friend. Hell, Bob was willing to die so Justin Morningway would stay dead and Harry would not be in danger (at least not from his murderous uncle anyway). Harry had to save his friend; he had to!

When the spell was complete, Harry felt drained, but his work wasn't done yet. He checked Bob's pulse and found it a bit stronger than earlier and then went to remove Bob's shoes. Harry covered his friend with one of the blankets on the bed and then stumbled down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. As the caffeinated liquid brewed, Harry let his thoughts wander. What would he do if Bob died? What would happen if the Council found out the cursed sorcerer was no longer trapped inside his own skull? How was Murphy going to kill him when he told her he didn't know how the creepy skull from his place wound up in the morgue?

When the coffee was finally ready, Harry poured himself a large cup. He didn't usually drink coffee, he normally stuck to tea, but he kept a supply on hand for clients. At the moment, however, he needed to stay awake, and Harry was not going to be able to do that without some assistance. He took the large cup back up to the loft and sat down to keep a watchful eye on his friend.

XVIIIIV

It was after Harry almost nodded off for the third time that he decided it was time he got some rest. His back was aching from sitting in a hard chair for two hours, and after that cup of coffee, Harry really had to go to the bathroom. He checked Bob one more time (about the fiftieth time overall) and was relieved to find his pulse still steady. Picking up the empty coffee cup, Harry went down the loft stairs. He dropped the up off in the kitchen sink, made a quick pitstop in the bathroom, and then collapsed onto the couch in cheer exhaustion. Not a minute later, he was asleep.

XVIIIIV

A loud ringing startled Harry from the exhausted sleep he had fallen into hours before, and he rubbed a hand over his face as he rolled off the couch. Hurrying over to the rotary phone, he tried to answer it before the caller hung up.

"'Arry 'Esden," he answered through a partial yawn.

"How the Hell did you do it?!" shouted a very angry Murphy from the other end.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me! I know it was you; I found that disgusting skull from your place! Now, how the Hell did you do it?!"

A thought dawned on Harry. "Let me guess, my uncle's body no longer displays the bizarre signs of a crushed heart?"

"I swear to God, Dresden, if-"

"Murphy, if you bring the skull over to my place I will explain everything." Harry swallowed hard. "No lies, no half-truths, just the truth." He was taking a big risk, but what was another one when it would be his fourth in less than twenty-four hours.

There was a long pause from Murphy's end. "Okay, but this had better not be a trick, Dresden." She didn't even say good-bye; Harry's only indication the conversation was over a click from the other end.

Harry hung up the phone and then sprinted up the stairs to the loft. Bob was still in bed, butt Harry was now positive his breathing was easier. Harry checked his pulse (a task he still wasn't used to doing for his friend) and found it stronger than the night before. Now, Harry wasn't sure if Bob was asleep or unconscious.

Harry figured he had about twenty minutes before Murphy would be knocking down his door and decided a quick shower was probably a good idea. The shirt he was wearing smelled of sweat from the night before, and he wanted to be at least somewhat refreshed and partially prepared for when Murphy interrogated him. He grabbed some clothes and headed downstairs to shower.

XVIIIIV

Harry was sure that if he hadn't answered the door as quickly as he did, Murphy would have kicked it down. She was obviously angry, but Harry was glad to see she had the skull in her hand. Murphy shoved the ancient skull into his hands and then pushed her way into the apartment. "There's your creep skull. Now, what is going on?"

"It's complicated," muttered Harry as he placed the skull on the table.

"Complicated?" scoffed Murphy. "Complicated?! Harry, trigonometry is complicated, learning to drive stick is complicated, navigating the realms of divorce court is complicated! But you, Harry Dresden, don't even have a word to describe you!"

"Would you please keep it down, Murphy?" asked Harry in a loud whisper. "I've got a friend trying to rest upstairs."

"Who? Some girl you met at a bar last night?"

"Yeah," replied Harry angrily. "Right after I switched my uncle's body with an exact look-a-like. Now, will you please keep it down?!" His eyes glanced up toward the loft. He was praying Bob was still asleep; he didn't want to think of him as unconscious anymore.

"I came here for the truth, Harry. You promised me that."

Harry opened his mouth for a retort and then closed it again. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he let out a sigh. "It's not actually that far from the truth." Murphy stared at him. "The look-a-like thing, not the girl upstairs."

"What is going on with you, Harry?"

"Come on. Let's go talk in the living room. I'm serious about being quiet though. I have a friend who is really sick upstairs, and I want him to rest."

Murphy was shocked by the 'him.' "Why don't you take him take him to the hospital if he's so bad?"

"Like I said before, it's complicated." They made their way to the living room, and each took a seat, Harry on the couch and Murphy in a chair across from him.

"Murphy," started Harry slowly. "My uncle was a horrible man."

"Harry, you were an orphan; he took you in. That doesn't seem too horrible."

"He was the one who orphaned me." He took a deep breath. "When I was eleven, my father died of what looked like a heart attack. It wasn't. My uncle killed him…using black magic." Murphy opened her mouth, but Harry held up his hand to stop her. "You wanted the truth, Murphy. Now, you're going to have to sit and listen to it." Murphy closed her mouth, and Harry started back into his story.

"My uncle took me in out of his own sick and twisted definition of the word love. He "cared" for me, gave me with anything I could want, and got me a tutor…to teach me magic." Murphy opened her mouth, but then closed it again remembering what Harry had said. "I don't mean stage magic like my dad, Murphy. I mean real magic; I'm not a con artist. I'm not some expert on "weird" things. I am a wizard." He paused to gauge Murphy's reaction; when she didn't speak, he continued.

"All the years I lived with uncle I thought he wanted me to learn magic to protect myself, other people…the world. In reality, it was just the opposite. He wanted to destroy the way the world was…shape it the way he desired, and he was going to start by killing the High-" Harry stopped. "Okay, I can't tell you who he was going to kill, but I can say that without them, the magical world and the real world would get along worse then they already do."

"My uncle wanted my help only I didn't know that until it was too late. I wasn't out of the country the night my uncle died; I was at his house, lying on the floor. That was the night I found out my uncle killed my father; it was also the night I returned the favor." Murphy turned pale, and harry half-expected her to slap cuffs on his wrists then and there. She remained silent, however, and Harry continued.

"I don't know if I truly meant to kill him, I don't think I did. I was just so angry. One second I'm following him down the hall yelling, the next I'm laying on the floor with a broken table on my back while he's trying to rationalize his actions. I fought back, Murphy, using black magic."

"My old tutor, who uh…lived with my uncle, was watching the whole thing, but he couldn't stop it. I got distracted for a moment asking my tutor if he knew about any of it, and my uncle attacked me. My hand slipped, and my uncle died." Harry took a deep breath. "The thing I couldn't tell you about earlier ruled it self-defense, and I guess I was a free man. I inherited my uncle's estate, but…I didn't want any of it, not from that bastard." He found it somewhat ironic he was using the same word to describe his uncle as Bob had. "I kept magic stuff that would be useful to me, and gave all the money to charity. It's probably the only decent thing ever done with my uncle's money."

Harry looked at Murphy and saw nothing but stunned confusion. He decided to continue since this would probably be the only time he was ever going to be allowed to talk this much around Murphy.

"Last night, my uncle planned on killing me. He made…I don't know…a double which was supposed to bring him, the real Justin Morningway, back." He paused. How was he supposed to explain Bob? "Remember awhile back when that mortician Sharon kidnapped me, and you found me because of the glowing letters."

"Yeah."

"That wasn't some stage trick. My friend, my tutor, the guy who's hurt, he did those letters."

"Why didn't he stick around?"

"He did; you probably just didn't see him. You see, he lives here, kinda. He's a ghost who lives in that skull." Harry pointed at the old relic on the table. "At least he was until about two days ago. My uncle's double brought him back to life-I don't know how-and in return, Bob-my friend-was supposed to bring my uncle back."

"I thought Bob had turned on me because to bring my uncle back he had to use my life force. He didn't though; Bob brought my uncle back to make sure he stayed dead, and I've spent that few hours trying to make sure Bob doesn't die."

Harry ended his long explanation and stared at Murphy waiting for a reaction. Shaking her head, she slowly rose form her chair. "You're nuts, Harry," she muttered as she started walking toward the door. "You are just plain nuts. I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened, take your name off the list of consultants, and we're never going to talk to each other again."

"Murphy, wait! Please!"

"No, Harry! This world-your world-it cannot exist. It can't exist because the real world-the world I live in is scary enough as it is! Good-bye!"

"Murphy-"

"No!"

Murphy was almost to the door so Harry acted out of desperation. He held out his hand and called his hockey stick to him. Seeing the stick fly across the room from the corner of her eye, Murphy slowly turned toward the wizard. "How did you do that?"

"I'm not done yet." He placed the hockey stick firmly on the floor and let what little energy he could spare flow into it. Symbols all around his apartment began to glow, and Murphy looked around the room in disbelief. Harry stopped the flow abruptly when he suddenly got dizzy. "I'd show you more," said Harry, "but I did have my energy ripped out of me last night."

Murphy's mouth was agape as she struggled to come up with anything to say. "Everything you've ever said about being a being a wizard and magic, it was true?" Harry nodded slowly. "You really are a wizard?" He nodded again. "I think I need to sit down." Murphy stumbled forward and all but collapsed into a chair.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter VI: Plummet

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers- What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: I will be gone all weekend with no access to computers or anything of the sort so there will be no posts for about five days; I still have to type seven. I hope you all enjoy.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter VI: Plummet

_Brent Leroy: "Dad look, you're gonna be around for a long time."  
Oscar Leroy: "How can you be so sure?"  
Brent Leroy: "Because, I've angered the Karma Gods, and you're my punishment."  
__-Corner Gas_

"And every time you go near a computer at the office and it goes haywire?" It was the most recent in a very, very long line of questions Murphy had been asking since his winded explanation.

"Magic and electricity don't really mix." He poured Murphy a cup of tea and then one for himself.

Murphy took the glass with a quiet 'thank you' and then glanced at the skull sitting on the table. "So your friend, Bob, how did he end up living in his skull?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it living, and he was cursed."

"Why?"

"It's something Bob would have to tell you; it is kinda personal." Murphy nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"Harry, why don't you sell your uncle's house?"

"Because, Murphy, I don't know what other secrets he's got stored away up there, and I don't want someone who is unprepared to find them. It's just safer...if I don't."

The explanation seemed to satisfy Murphy who lapsed into silence as she drank her tea. She was standing with her back against the counter, and Harry was leaning against the kitchen table; he didn't see what suddenly made her brown eyes go wide.

XVIIIIV

Pain was the first thing Bob registered when his mind returned from blackness. It was a sharp, unbearable pain, but a dull ache that radiated through his whole body and made it very difficult to focus on anything but it. It suddenly occurred to Bob that he shouldn't be feeling pain; he shouldn't be feeling anything. He should be back in his own skull ready to help Harry with his next pointless task and his next master after that for the rest of eternity. Bob slowly opened his eyes and found himself very far from his skull. He was on a bed, a very uncomfortable bed, but a bed nonetheless, and a blanket had been placed over him.

Slowly, as to not agitate the ache in his body any farther, Bob pushed the blanket back and sat up. The room immediately began to spin, and Bob gripped hold of the bed in efforts to stay upright. When the wave of dizziness passed, Bob opened his eyes again squinting at how bright the apartment seemed. Carefully, Bob put his feet on the floor and rose from the bed. It occurred to him, half-way through standing up, that he did not have any shoes on, but he would worry about that later when the world stood still. First, he needed to find out what was going on and why he was still alive. It was odd, however, to see his feet in socks only (though not as strange as some of the forms he had taken on).

Slowly and carefully, Bob started to make his way toward the stairs and then down. Every step seemed to take a momentous amount of effort and made the ache in his body worse. He gripped the railing of the stairs tightly as he made his way and prayed he wouldn't go tumbling headfirst to the ground floor below. About the sixth step down the unthinkable happened. His vision dimmed abruptly and his socked foot slipped. He gripped the railing with all his strength in a last ditch effort to keep from falling and prayed the stairs were not as hard as they had always looked. He faintly heard someone shout his name over the sound of his own panicked breathing.

XVIIIIV

Harry immediately turned around when he saw the panic in Murphy's eyes. His heart jumped to his throat when he saw Bob gripping the railing, swaying precariously near the top of the loft stairs. "Bob!"

Harry dropped his teacup, hearing it shatter as it hit the floor, and took off running for the stairs; Murphy was right behind him. Managing to cover the distance from the kitchen to the top of the stairs in a matter of seconds, Harry succeeded in catching Bob before he made an ungraceful and painful trip down the stairs.

"It's okay, Bob," said Harry, upon hearing Bob's heavy and panicked breathing. "It's okay. I've got ya." He slipped Bob's arm around his shoulders and with Murphy's help, Harry helped his friend down the stairs. It was considerably easier than going up; at least now Bob was conscious.

Harry continued reassuring Bob as he, with Murphy's help, walked the ex-ghost over to the couch. Bob was still breathing heavily as Harry sat down on the couch, and Harry was beginning to panic himself.

Murphy just couldn't help but stare at the strange man on the couch who Harry was trying to get to calm down. He was incredibly pale, bordering almost on the color of death, with stark white hair. If this was one of Harry's friends, well...Harry suddenly made less sense than before.

"Go get a glass of water!" Harry ordered Murphy as he checked Bob's pulse. It was still pretty strong, but it was way too fast.

Murphy brought the water over to Harry and set it on the coffee table, watching with morbid curiosity as Harry tried to get his friend to calm down. He kept trying to reassure the strange white-haired man, but his words didn't seem to be getting through. "Bob" continued to gasp for air and did not look like he was giving Harry any mind.

A few more seconds ticked by before the medical training Murphy had to know to be a cop kicked in. She strode over to the couch and knelt on the floor next to Bob.

"Put his head between his knees," ordered Murphy, gently taking hold of Bob's shoulders. Harry looked over at Murphy, and she saw a look of pure panic in his eyes at the state of his friend. With Harry's help, Murphy managed to get Bob to place his head between his knees. She held her hand up to get Harry to stop his constant stream of muttered assurances. Harry closed his mouth abruptly and watched as Murphy leaned down close to Bob's ear.

"Bob," she said calmly, "you need to slow your breathing. Take a slow, deep breath, hold it for a second, and then let it out. Can you do that with me?" It occurred to Murphy that she was taking to him like he was a child, but at the moment she didn't really care. She demonstrated the breathing pattern she wanted, and soon Bob's haggard breathing began to match it.

XVIIIIV

Just when Bob thought he was going to lose his grip and go headfirst down the stairs, a force slammed into his body, stopping his plummet and jarring his aching body. He could hear Harry telling him that "It was okay" but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what "it" was. Maybe it had something to do with fact he was still alive in general. His arm was pulled around a set of shoulders, and two pairs of hands helped him down the rest of the stairs. All the while, Harry continued muttering assurances, but Bob had to argue with the "Your fines" since his breathing continued to get worse.

The two sets of hands helped him gently onto the couch. He heard Harry shout at someone to get a glass of water, and Bob chose that moment to open his eyes (he'd closed them tightly when he began to fall down the stairs), but then quickly close them again; the brightness of the apartment was nearly unbearable, and it did nothing to calm his panicked breathing.

An eternity of gasping seemed to slip by before someone forced his head between his knees and a calm voice spoke in his ear, "Bob, you need to slow your breathing. Take a slow, deep breath, hold it for a second, and then let it out. Can you do that with me?" Whoever had spoken (it had not been Harry; it was way too calm to be Harry) demonstrated the breathing, and Bob did his best to copy it. After a moment, his haggard breathing fell into the pattern, and Bob felt like he had some semblance of control over his breathing.

Using what felt like an ungodly amount of effect, Bob raised up and looked at his surroundings. Harry was on his left, looking worse than he had night before; his hair and clothes were okay, but there were bags under his eyes, and the growth on his face was far past five o' clock shadow. Seeing someone on his other side, Bob turned and saw Murphy staring at him with eyes full of confusion. He panicked slightly and felt the need to disappear into his skull. It took him a moment to realize he couldn't. Bob turned toward Harry, "How...am I...still alive?" He stared at Harry while his mind went through every possible scenario he could think of; they all ended the same: him dead. For one good reason, the spell had been too strong not to kill him.

Harry reached over and took the glass of water off the coffee table. "I'll explain when you're a little more with it, Bob," said Harry, placing the glass in Bob's shaking hands. For a second, Harry was positive Bob was going to drop it, but the former ghost managed to get a grip on the glass with only a small amount of water sloshing out. He slowly raised the glass and took a drink. The coldness of the water surprised him, and choked on the first mouthful.

"Are you okay, Bob?" shouted a panicked Harry, causing Bob to wince. Everything seemed wrong; lights were way too bright, noises were much too loud, and he couldn't seem to ignore the ache in his body. Being alive was going to take some getting used too, if it even lasted.

"I'm fine, Harry," said Bob through a cough. He took another sip and managed to swallow without choking.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired," muttered Bob, "and very sore." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch.

"Do you want an Aspirin?" Bob cracked an eye and stared at Harry. "I'll take that as a no."

Bob began to nod off as Harry and Murphy started to talk again. His tired mind couldn't focus on what either of them were saying, and Bob began to be lulled to sleep by the droning voices. He was startled awake a little while later when a splash of cold water soaked through his pant leg. He sat up quickly and saw he'd let the glass of water tilt to the side and his shaking hand had caused some to spill out.

Harry took the glass from Bob's hands, and he and Murphy helped him stand from the couch. "Come one, Bob," said Harry quietly, "let's get you back to bed."

Bob wanted to protest, but he was far too tired. He allowed himself to be helped back up and laid down on the uncomfortable bed, and not a minute later, he was asleep.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter VII: Soup

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers- What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash (Like the other day, someone bit me).

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: I'm back! Yay! This is chapter seven. I hope you enjoy. I do not know when eight will be up. It is going to take a lot of editing. Still my own beta.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter VII: Soup

_"May you live all the days of your life."  
-Jonathan Swift_

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Murphy as she and Harry walked toward the front door.

"He should be, but healing spells are tricky. It may be a few days before he actually seems 'better.'"

"I still can't believe you were telling the truth about being a wizard." Harry just shrugged. "So what are you gonna do?"

"I was thinking that in a little while I would make something for Bob and me to eat."

Murphy paused. "Soup, Harry."

"What?"

"Soup. You don't want him to try and eat something heavy. Judging by his condition, he'll probably throw it up." Harry stared at her. "Trust me. I've taken care of a sick kid before, and it is not fun. Besides, judging by your housekeeping habits, you'd never get this place cleaned up again."

"I keep this place plenty clean." Harry thought for a moment. "Soup it is."

Murphy gave him a tired smile. "I've had enough weirdness for one day."

"How are you taking all of this?"

"It's pretty damn hard to believe, Harry, but I believe it. I'll stop by tomorrow and see how both of you are doing." She gave him a small wave and walked out the door. Harry closed the door behind her and then walked back over to the couch. He sat down and leaned his head back. He needed a bit of rest before he could even think about searching his kitchen for some soup.

XVIIIIV

It dawned on Harry while he was searching through his third cabinet that he couldn't actually remember the last time he bought groceries. He'd normally just pick up a few things whenever he had the cash, but his search for soup had shown him his cabinets were surprisingly empty. He grabbed his jacket on his way to the door and prayed that Bob wouldn't wake up while he was gone; Harry didn't want to come back to find his friends unconscious at the bottom of the stairs.

There was a twenty-four hour convenience store down the street from his apartment, and Harry remember they stocked a small supply of groceries. He made the walk in a little over five minutes. Grabbing a few cans of soup, Harry was about to make his way back to the front when he saw a jug of orange juice. Harry grabbed the drink on a whim and went up to the front to pay. The walk back to his apartment seemed longer than the walk to the store, and all Harry could think about was opening the door to find something wrong with Bob. His fears were unfounded; everything was fine when he entered his apartment.

As Harry walked into the kitchen he saw the remnants of the broken teacup on the floor. He put the bags on the table, scooped up the pieces of the cup, and tossed them in the trash. After wiping up the small puddle of tea, Harry put the juice in the fridge, and then began heating one of the cans of soup. Once it was heating on the stove, Harry sat down at the table and thought about his situation for the first time since it started.

It seemed as though Bob was going to be okay, although the state he'd been in earlier had scared the Hell out of him. Murphy, though stunned and apprehensive, had taken the news of the "magical world" surprisingly well; Harry was expecting more questions in the near future however. What Harry had to worry about now was the High Council. Not only was the soul of a dead and damned sorcerer that had been in his possession now returned to his body, but he had also told Murphy all he could about a world she wasn't supposed to know anything about. It was only a matter of time before Morgan was knocking down his front door; Harry was not looking forward to that. He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning quickly, Harry saw Bob leaning heavily against one of the ceiling supports.

"Are you okay, Bob?" asked Harry, rushing over from the table. He was about to reach out and help him, but Bob held up a hand to stop him. Bob pushed himself away from the pole with a deep breath and took a second to get his bearings. He made it the rest of the way over to the table without incident and sat heavily on one of the chairs.

"I do not think "okay" is the most appropriate word," said Bob, resting his head in his hands. "But I am considerably better than earlier." He paused for a moment as he watched Harry try to look busy with whatever was on the stove, deliberately avoiding speaking further. "How is it that I am still alive, Harry? I know how powerful my magic is and that energy was powerful; I should be dead." Harry didn't respond. "Deceased, damned, bound to to skull for all eternity."

Harry stopped. "I didn't realize you'd go back to your skull."

"What part of 'my soul forever ensnared, forbidden to move on' didn't you understand?"

"Well...ensnared has always been an odd word to-"

"Harry?"

"I kind of did an impromptu healing spell?"

"Impromptu?"

"Well...you see...I didn't actually think about it. I was just kind of doing it without knowing it, and well you were still breathing so I figured I was doing something right."

"Harry, that was not entirely wise."

"I know, but it worked. After I got you back here, I found the spell, and I did it right."

Bob's brow furrowed. "What spell?"

"That one you showed me a few years ago; the book is in the lab."

"The one that requires the caster to give up some of their own energy?"

"Maybe..."

"Harry!"

Harry turned around abruptly. "What was I supposed to do, Bob? You were dying; I did what I needed to do to save you."

"I appreciate that, Harry, but I do not believe the Council is going to be quite so agreeable."

"I'll deal with them when the time comes, okay? For right now, let's just try and forget it."

There was a pause. "How much did you tell her?"

"Just about everything but the High Council's name."

"Are you wanting them to come after you?"

"Yep, but first I want as many strikes against me as possible."

"You are well on your way."

"I was sick of lying to her, Bob. Besides, if I didn't tell her the truth I think she was gonna haul me away for Uncle Justin's murder."

"She wouldn't be wrong."

"You do realize you've killed him too now?"

"I'm a seven hundred year old sorcerer who was recently brought back despite my soul being cursed, and I murdered a reanimated corpse of a black magic wizard with magic. I do not think that case is going to hold up in court!"

For a moment, Harry stared at Bob, and then, he started laughing. Bob watched him for a moment, slightly worried, but then started laughing with him. With everything that had happened in the last two days, laughing seemed to be the only way to deal with it other than going completely crazy. The two of them laughed for several minutes, and then it slowly died away, leaving the room silent.

Harry wiped his eyes, which had begun to water during his laughing fit, and turned back to the soup on the stove. "Umm...are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

Bob had to think for a minute. It had been such a long time since he'd be hungry that he honestly couldn't remember what it felt like. He didn't feel too great though, and maybe food would help. "I suppose so." He paused. "What is it?"

"Umm...I took Murphy's advice, and I made some soup, chicken soup. There's also some orange juice in the fridge." Harry started to get the food ready while Bob sat at the table and thought.

Bob was pretty damn glad to still be alive (he hadn't really wanted to die), but something didn't feel right. He was unnaturally weak, it was still incredibly hard to stay awake, and the ache from earlier was still there. It wasn't all over his body like it had been; it had settled in the center of his chest, and it was bothering him more now. The spell Harry had done should have taken care of all those symptoms, but then again, Harry had done the spell once at the morgue without any of the proper requirements; maybe it was just a bit of a malfunction. Looking down at his hands, Bob saw the black manacles still encircling his wrists. He touched one of them, and for a microsecond, the ache in his chest got worse.

"Hey, Bob, you okay?" Bob quickly let go of the manacle and looked up at Harry as he put a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice in front of him. Staring at the food, Bob suddenly knew he wasn't hungry.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter VIII: Insane

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers- What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash (Like the other day, someone bit me).

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: Realized last night that all the titles on the chapters said _Blood Relatives_ so I fixed that. I hope you like chapter eight.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter VIII: Insane

"_Funny how just when you think your life can't possibly get any worse it suddenly does."  
__- Douglas Noel Adams_

The next two days were a continuing adjustment for both Bob and Harry. Harry had to get used to the fact Bob was now alive and there were two living people in the apartment now, and Bob had to get used to the fact he wasn't dead. The first day he really began moving around the apartment, he'd bumped into just about everything he possibly could; there were a myriad of bruises on his legs. It was hard to get used to the fact he wasn't going to just phase through things. It was also difficult to adjust to the fact he didn't have to disappear every time someone walked into the office. Every time someone walked in (which fortunately had only happened twice), Bob wanted to hurry out of the room even if he was in the middle of something.

The worst of it all, however, were his senses. As a ghost, most of his senses were dulled. Sounds were quieter and his sight was good by all means, but he never had to adjust to light or dark. Being alive basically sent his senses into overdrive. All light seemed way too bright, and it took far too long for his eyes to adjust to darkness. The night before, even with candles being lit throughout the apartment, Bob had bumped into just about everything he possibly could because he just couldn't see.

Hearing, however, was ten times worse. Being a ghost was like wearing muffles; he could hear loud noises and quiet noises just fine, but being alive and hearing was unbearable. Any loud noise from outside was murder on his ears, and he'd wince involuntarily.

Food was another major adjustment. Everything was either too sweet or too salty and all together unappetizing. The orange juice he'd drank with the soup was so sweet it had almost gagged him; he was sticking to water for as long as he could.

And for fair measure, he hated the clothes. Being alive was the first time he ever realized how stuffy his own clothes were, but the clothes that Harry had bought for him were much worse. He was mortified when he saw the jeans in the shopping bag.

The bright side was Murphy stopped by the next day, like she said she would, and Bob was happy to finally be able to talk to someone other than Harry or Morgan or the few people he was able to talk to before they figured out he wasn't alive. He was expecting her to do nothing except ask questions (she was a detective after all), but instead she asked only a few and they had a fairly normal conversation; she'd even brought Harry back the photo of him and his father. Bob had a feeling, thought, that Harry wasn't so lucky as to be spared the interrogation; Murphy seemed pretty damn determined to find out what happened with the Boone case awhile back. Not that Bob cared; Harry was driving him insane.

The young wizard was convinced it was his responsibility to "watch out" for him, and Bob was positive that if Harry asked him it he was okay one more time, he would scream. Bob understood that Harry was still rattled by how close he to losing him, but the constant worried glances were getting on Bob's nerves. No matter how many times Bob assured Harry he was fine Harry just didn't seem to believe it.

Bob was starting to wonder, however, if Harry was right in thinking he wasn't completely okay. The exhaustion and unnatural weakness had finally passed, but the dull ache was still making itself known. It wasn't painful per say, but it was unnerving. Even as he lay on the couch, he'd finally convinced Harry to sleep in the bed, the ache was preventing him from falling asleep. Bob absently fingered the manacles (neither he not Harry had looked for a way to remove them yet) when a brief break in the ache brought realization with it. Throwing the blanket covering him back, Bob quickly got off the couch and started toward the lab; he managed to stub his toe on a table leg and rammed his shoulder into the doorway on his way.

Rushing into the lab, Bob immediately started setting up for the experiments he intended to do. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing what the ache actually was. It didn't come from pain; it came from emptiness. Something had been there but no longer was. He'd felt it long ago when he'd lost Winnifred, but now it was different. The ache wasn't as intense, but it was still completely unnerving. What made it worse was that Bob thought he knew what was gone.

Bob started with a more complicated spell hoping everything would go right, and his mind could then be at ease; his fears were not alleviated when the spell failed to work at all.

With hopes beginning to fade, Bob looked up another spell, this one easier, and tried again. It still didn't work. Getting somewhat desperate, Bob decided to try one of the earliest spells he'd taught Harry: a simple tracking spell. He put together all the ingredients and then plucked a couple of hairs out of his head and put them in. Letting out a deep breath, Bob dunked in Harry's extra crystal and waited; nothing happened. The crystal didn't light up; it didn't acknowledge the person was supposed to find was holding it, and Bob's heart sank into the ache in his chest.

"I have no magic," Bob muttered to himself as he set the crystal down on the worktable. "I have ...no magic."

He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes, trying hard to deal with what he'd just discovered. When he looked up again, Bob noticed, for the first time, his skull sitting on the table in front of him. It grinned back at him as if mocking his predicament and reminded Bob how trapped he was. He was damned still, but now he was just a mortal who knew he was damned and couldn't do a thing to stop it.

Glancing down at the manacles still wrapped tightly around his wrists, Bob felt more trapped and bound to skull than ever.

XVIIIIV

Harry woke up early, well early for him anyway, and made his way downstairs. He was still feeling guilty about sleeping in his own bed since he still wasn't sure Bob was okay. When he reached the first floor, Harry glanced over at the couch and saw it empty. "Bob?" No one answered. "Bob!?" He was getting frantic; this was way too reminiscent of when he'd woken up the other morning to find Bob's skull missing.

Harry was about to go dashing outside, checking briefly for a spell on the door, when he heard a small crash behind him. Turning quickly, Harry saw Bob rubbing his his knee and a shattered glass on the floor.

"Man, Bob, I thought something had happened to you." He studied his friends appearance for a moment; he was paler (well paler than his normal white skin), and there were dark circles under his eyes. "Are you okay? No offense, but you look awful." Worry was rising in Harry.

Bob looked confused for a moment, and then opened his mouth as if to respond; he never got a chance. The door in the kitchen was thrown open, and Morgan burst in with his sword already drawn.

"You are going to regret this, Dresden," Morgan said angrily as he strode further into the apartment. "You are going to regret this so much."

**TBC**


	9. Chapter IX: Damn

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: I would like to thank Spamurai for his wonderful review. I love getting long reviews; it made my day. The chapters are going to start getting a little shorter, but not by much. I hope you enjoy. Mistakes are still my own.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter IX: Damn

_"Ever since dying came into fashion, life hasn't been safe."  
-Anonymous _

"Well, Morgan, it's nice to see you, too. Come on in. Would like something to drink? How about a nice cup of tea?"

"Shut it, Dresden!" Morgan said menacingly, crossing the room toward Harry. The younger wizard reached to call his hockey stick, half-expecting Morgan to attack him with his sword. Instead Morgan switched the sword to his other hand and punched Harry across the face; it was way too reminiscent of when they'd worked together to help the hellion, only this time, Morgan meant it.

"Get away from him!" shouted Bob, crossing the room angrily toward Morgan. The Warden turned quickly and knocked Bob back; the ex-ghost stumbled a few feet and tripped over the arm of the couch. Harry fumed at the sight of his friend's mistreatment and lounged at Morgan, who still had his back toward him. The sword, luckily, slid from Morgan's hand, and Harry and Morgan went down on the floor in a heap. While the two of them struggled, Bob went to grab the sword. A brief but powerful shock from the sword, however, caused Bob to pull his hand back.

Morgan somehow managed to untangle himself from Harry and quickly got back to his feet. In one swift movement, Morgan pushed Bob back from the sword and scooped it up. He held it at Bob's throat just as Harry was getting back to his feet.

"Okay, Morgan," said Harry, putting his hands out to show he wasn't going to attack again. "I'm sure we can sort this all out." He glanced at Bob and saw his friend swallow nervously as he glanced down at the sword.

"I knew you were stupid, Dresden, but breaking a curse put forth by the High Council to bring a damned Necromancer back, now that's just plain moronic."

"I didn't bring him back," said Harry. "My uncle did…my uncle's double."

"You expect me to believe that?" demanded Morgan, inching the sword forward a microscopic amount. Harry saw Bob, if possible, turn a little paler.

"It's the truth," pleaded Harry, nervously. "My uncle created this double that was supposed to bring him back; he had this girl steal Bob's skull and bring it back to him. He brought Bob back, and Bob was supposed to bring the real Justin back. I told you the skull was stolen; you gave me that little skull to find him."

Morgan turned toward Harry. "Did he bring Morningway back?" asked Morgan with a raised eyebrow. Harry had a strong feeling Morgan knew exactly what Bob would have to have done to bring his uncle back.

"Yeah," answered Harry, after a long pause, "but he did it so he could make sure he was gone forever. Bob killed my uncle again, and now the double's body is in the casket. You can go back and check, the double's body shows no signs of any heart problems."

"So? That still doesn't cover the fact that _he _is still here. When I gave you that skull to find _Bob, _I was not expecting you to bring him back to life."

"Are you listening? I didn't! When Bob attacked my uncle, it almost killed him...it was supposed to. I saved him; I had to, but I didn't bring him back." Harry hoped Morgan would lower the sword after his explanation, but the Warden kept the weapon in the exact same place. Morgan turned back to Bob, his mind unchanged.

"It makes no difference if you brought him back or _saved _him. The fact of the matter is Hrothbert of Bainbridge is supposed to be dead and bound to his skull for all eternity. You should have let him die, but since you didn't, the High Council will have to remedy the situation."

"No!" shouted Harry; Bob closed his eyes.

"Don't you understand, Dresden!? This man was one of the most powerful sorcerers of all time, and he practiced black magic. Do you think just because he's spent 700 years in his own skull he's actually changed? He used his power for evil before, and he'll use it for evil again."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Bob's voice cut him off.

"I have no power," said the ex-ghost quietly.

Morgan and Harry both turned toward Bob. "What?" they asked simultaneously.

Bob spoke slowly through gritted teeth. "I have no power; I can't do any spells, and I can't do magic. I can't even track myself when I'm holding the crystal! I have no power!" The last part came out as a shout.

Harry stared at his friend, who looked truly upset, and tried to think of something to say. "Are you serious?" was all he could come up with.

"Yes, Harry, I'm quite serious. I have no power at all." Bob looked both angry and upset.

Harry and Morgan both stood still completely dumbfounded, and Bob lowered his head as to not look at them. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry spoke. "You can't kill him, Morgan. He's human. You have no reason to kill him."

Morgan slowly lowered the sword and stared at the ex-ghost; this was not what he had been expecting. "Morgan?" said Harry. "Morgan? Morgan!?"

"Quiet, Dresden, I am trying to think!"

"What is there to think about?! Bob is human, and even being a member of the High Council does not give you the right to flat out kill a human!"

"This is a unique set of circumstances, Dresden. It will require special consideration."

"Well then here's some more things to consider. One, Bob was willing to die to save me and keep Justin Morningway dead; he had a chance to be powerful again, and he gave it up. Two, 700 years has changed him, and Bob is not the same person he was back then; trust me, I know. And three, Bob is human now, and the Council will not look too good killing a human for what he did 700 years ago." He got right in Morgan's face, despite the sword. "Think about that." He paused for a moment. "Carefully."

Bob's mouth hung open slightly; he was shocked by his friend's words. Harry had to be the only person in his entire life that had that much faith in him.

Morgan glared at Harry, but also took a step back. "The Council will have to discuss the matter," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "I will be back in one week exactly." Harry and Bob watched nervously as Morgan walked toward the door, and both of them breathed a huge sigh of relief when he exited.

"That was close," muttered Harry. He looked over at Bob who hadn't moved from the spot where Morgan had held him with the sword. "Are you okay?"

Bob looked up at Harry, looking confused and still somewhat nervous. "Did you mean what you said about me?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Of course I did. Why?"

Bob just stared at Harry, still very confused. After a few more seconds had gone by, Bob shook his head and turned around. "I'm going to go work in the lab." He started to walk away, but Harry stopped him.

"Wait, Bob." The ex-ghost turned back around slowly. It took Harry a couple of couple of seconds, but he finally found his voice. "How?"

"How what?"

"How did you...how did you lose your magic? What happened?"

Bob looked away, and Harry saw a pained expression in his eyes. "I think, to put it quite simply, I used it all. Transferring energy between two people is one thing, but throwing all the power you have into an attack is something else."

"I don't think I understand."

"I think when you healed me you healed my body the way it was, devoid of magic. I'd used it all; that's not something a healing spell can fix." Bob didn't say anything more; he walked back to the lab quietly leaving a dumbfounded Harry standing in the living.

It was several seconds after Bob left that Harry found his voice again. All he came up with was a very quiet, "Oh, God."

**TBC**


	10. Chapter X: Worthless

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: Sorry it took so long, but here it is. Chapter eleven (also the last chapter) is being edited and will be up tomorrow. I hope you enjoy.

**X.B.C.**

Chapter X: Worthless

_"We are here to add what we can to life, not to get what we can from life."  
-William Osler_

Many times when Bob was a ghost, he'd felt useless. A prime example would be when the skinwalker attacked Harry; he had to stand there and watch as that…creature tortured Harry, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. When all his former masters would ask for a certain spell and all Bob could do was tell it to them, he felt pretty useless. Although he was now alive, he'd never felt more useless in his entire existence.

Centuries ago he'd been a powerful sorcerer who could do anything, and now he was just plain old…Bob. Until last week he'd been nothing more than a relic, a reference guide for magic that doubled as a creepy paperweight, and now he was just an ordinary human. He couldn't cast a spell if his life depended on it...or Harry's life for that matter.

As a ghost, Bob lived somewhat vicariously through his masters. He would tell them the spell or potion, walk them through the steps, and watch as it all came together in the end (or fell apart sometimes if it was Harry). It was as close as Bob ever got to magic (if his neat "trick" with death was excluded), and he had accepted it.

This, however, was worse. He was human, but powerless. Before, his lack of magic came from the fact he was dead, but now, it came from the fact he was just plain _powerless_. Bob could affect the world, but not in the way he wished. What good was it to know it to know an endless number of spells if he couldn't do a single one. He was useless to Harry; he was useless to his one friend, a friend who had a dumbfounding need to defend him and believe in him when nothing in his past would make a normal person do so. An idea, however, to remedy his situation hit him while he was working in the lab.

It had been three days since Morgan had left with the promise he'd be back in a week; the seconds had been ticking by like hours. Bob had spent almost all that time in the lab, looking at old spells and writing new notes; he only came out to eat and sleep. Working in the lab was about the only thing he could do that made himself feel useful. Harry had taken on a new case in the meantime (it took Bob an hour to convince him to take it) and had spent more of his time away from his apartment. Bob had only partially listened to what the case was about: something about a woman and her ex-husband and what the woman believed was 'voodoo.' Harry wasn't really sure it was his type of case, but he was very short on money

As Bob sat at the table in the lab, a fit of frustration made push away what he was working on, and he rubbed his tired eyes. When he looked up again, his skull was grinning menacingly at him, and Bob suddenly realized the way to rid himself of the uselessness he felt; it was the way Morgan had intended.

Glancing down, Bob saw the manacles still encircling his wrists (during down time from research, Bob had been looking for a way to remove them), and the cold, black iron did its job to remind him his soul was bound for eternity. That could be his solution, his escape. He'd heard of plenty of people taking their own lives in his 700 years of existence. If he simply found his own way to do it, he could be back in his skull and finally have a reason for his uselessness. This was the only time in his life that Bob had ever considered instigating his own death (except for a brief moment after his beloved Winnifred's death), and he felt it to be the coward's way out. He'd been longing for life for centuries, and now he was contemplating giving it all up because why? He felt useless?

It would solve Harry's problem (as cowardly as it was), and in an odd way it would solve his. The Council could relax knowing he was safely tucked away back in his skull forever, and Morgan would leave Harry alone (at least for his being alive anyway). A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Bob. If he were to 'return' to his skull, the Council might then decide the relic was too dangerous for Harry, or any other wizard, to possess. Going back to his skull didn't seem like a horrible thing, despite how much he hated it during his imprisonment, especially if it meant he was protecting Harry. He'd been willing to die before, but being separated from the only person he'd call a friend in 700 years would almost be too much for his soul to bear, however damned it may be.

Bob put his head into his hands, torn between his two decisions, and stayed that way for God only knows how long. He only moved when he heard a crash coming from the storefront. Rising from his seat, Bob made his way to the door and quietly pushed it open, not that it really mattered; the shouting and crashes coming from the front covered up any noise he was making. Slowly and cautiously, Bob made his way up the hall and looked around the corner. A giant of a man stood in the storefront with his back to Bob while a particularly beat up looking Harry failed miserably to push himself back to his feet. The ex-ghost panicked slightly when he saw the silver glint of a gun in the huge man's hands.

"I told you to stay the Hell away from my Kelly!" shouted the gargantuan, bringing the butt of the gun down across Harry's face and sending the wizard sprawling down onto the floor; Bob didn't really have to wonder why this was the client's ex-husband. When the giant sent a powerful kick to Harry's chest, Bob almost ran out into the room, but he stopped. He wouldn't do Harry any good with a hole in his chest. Bob didn't know what Harry had done, but judging by the angry man's actions it hadn't made him very happy.

As Harry tried to push himself up again, Bob caught his eye, and the ex-ghost watched Harry struggle to try and keep the knowledge of his presence a secret. The giant suddenly raised the gun, aiming it directly at Harry's head and mumbling something indistinguishable, and Bob knew he had to act fast.

Picking up a heavy iron candlestick off the table close to the doorway, Bob made his way quickly and soundlessly across the room, and with a silent pleading prayer, Bob brought the candlestick down hard on the back of the giant's head. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, and Harry collapsed back to the ground in relief. Bob dropped the candlestick and knelt by his friend.

"Harry? Harry?! Are you okay?" Bob winced at the nasty look of the bruises already taking shade on his friend's face and the bloody cut running across his forehead.

"I'm fine," muttered Harry, getting to his feet with a lot of help from Bob. "Just a little sore." He attempted to take a step on his own, but nearly fell. Bob caught him, luckily, and helped him walk slowly across the room.

Bob helped Harry sit down on the couch, a complete inverse from a few days before, and then went to phone Lt. Murphy. He had to step over the giant man on the way to the phone, and it hit him. He was not as useless as he may have thought; he wasn't useless at all. If he hadn't been human (nothing more, nothing less) there would have been nothing he could have done today. The "ghost" would not have stood a chance against the huge man, and Harry would dead.

In all the years in his skull, Bob had watched people use magic to get what they wanted, to effect the world. While being alive, that's what Bob had done too. It never really occurred to him there were other ways to effect the world because he'd never used them. However, being just plain old Bob seemed to work just fine in helping his friend, in fact, it saved Harry's life. Suddenly, being a damned and cursed spirit trapped in his skull didn't seem like such a good thing to be again.

XVIIIIV

After Murphy had come and arrested Kelly's (his client) ex-husband and Harry had give his statement, an EMT patched him up. During which he watched Kirmani's reaction to Bob and his statement; the cop seemed utterly confused by the new edition to Dresden's World of Weirdness. From the corner of eye (he couldn't turn his head because an EMT was busy placing gauze over the cut on his forehead), Harry watched Murphy pull Bob off to the side.

"Did any of this have to do with...you know..." Murphy's voice dropped to a whisper. "Magic?"

Bob shook his head. "For once, no. Just your normal jealous ex-husband."

"Are you okay?"

Bob took a second to answer. "I believe I am." He gave Murphy an honest, but tired smile.

She shook her head with a sigh. "You know, I used to think the only one I had to worry about was Dresden, but you're good for attracting trouble too." Her voice softened. "Both of you need to be careful."

Murphy made her way over to where Harry sat on the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Peachy," replied Harry, wincing as the EMT pressed down on the gauze; he looked up. "Don't I look it?"

She shook her head. "Haven't I told you to be careful?"

"Not today."

Murphy rolled her eyes, but Harry felt her give his shoulder a squeeze. "Get some rest. And put some ice on your face. You look awful."

Murphy gave him a smirk before heading back over to the other officers. It was another ten minutes before she, the rest of the officers and paramedics left

After they were all gone, Harry watched as Bob began to clean up the mess the giant had made of the shop. Harry rose to help, but a stern look from Bob made him sit back down. The former ghost placed books back on shelves and put papers back on the desk all without talking. A few minutes passed before Harry worked up the courage to ask a question he'd been wondering about for days.  
"Bob, do you regret being alive without your magic?"

The former ghost froze in his clean up and turned toward Harry. The two stared at each other for a moment before Bob spoke. "I will not lie to you, Harry. I miss my magic. I have an ache inside me without it, and I have to say I felt somewhat worthless."

"Bob, you're not worth-"

The ex-sorcerer raised his hand to cut Harry off. "You need to realize the difference between present and past tense verbs. I said I felt worthless, but today, I realized I am not. If I hadn't been human, I would have been able to do absolutely nothing for you, and you would be dead. Being "powerless" in exchange for a _friend's _life seems like a very fair trade." Without another word, Bob went back his clean up, and Harry found himself praying for a miracle. At that moment in time, he didn't know if he had years with the human Bob or merely four days; it was pure torture.

XVIIIIV

In a few minutes, the 'exactly one week' was going to be up, and Harry knew Morgan was never late. The wait had been murder for both Bob and Harry, and now, Harry was wishing he could push it back further. The Council didn't grant second chances, and Harry had a sickening feeling Ancient Mai had thought of a way to get rid of Bob without making the Council look bad. God, he was not looking forward to Morgan's arrival.

As Harry paced by the door, Bob sat on the couch, looking down. He was absently pulling at the manacles around his wrists; no spell in any of the books (not even the one's from the Morningway estate) was designed to remove them. Both Harry's and Bob's mindless activities were interrupted when the door was once again thrown open violently. An immense feeling a deja vu hit Harry as Morgan strode in with his sword already drawn; the warden looked angry.

"Morgan," said Harry, trying to sound calm, "we can talk about this."

"Silence, Dresden," sad Morgan lowly. He shot his hand out, and a bolt of energy sent Harry flying into the wall. It wasn't actually enough to hurt him (much), but a spell shot afterwards kept him pinned to the wall. He heard Bob shouting his name and asking if he was okay, but Harry was too focused on the warden walking toward Bob with a drawn sword to answer.

"You can't do this, Morgan!" shouted Harry desperately. "You can't! He doesn't deserve it." He tried to fight the spell that kept him pinned up against the wall, but it was no use. He was getting desperate. "Please, Morgan!"

Bob had gotten to his feet and was trying to stand tall in front of the very aggravated looking warden; on the inside, however, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt more helpless than a field mouse going up against a lion.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" demanded Morgan with narrowed eyes.

Bob's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sounds came out. For the first time ever, Bob was speechless.

Morgan seemed impatient. "On your knees," said the warden lowly.

As the ex-ghost slowly got to his knees, Harry began pleading. "Morgan, please! You can't do this! You can't! Please! You can't!"

Morgan ignored the wizard and kept eye contact with Bob. "Lower your head and put your hands out in front of you."

Bob swallowed hard and obliged. He put his head down and set his hands out on the coffee table in front of him. Deep down he felt as though he should be fighting this, but that would only make things worse for Harry in the end. Bob took a deep breath not knowing how long it would be before the pain and blackness.

Harry could only watched in horror as Morgan raised the sword. "Morgan, you can't do this!" His pleas were growing more desperate as tears began to fall from his eyes. Anger was his next emotion. "Morgan, I swear to God if you do this I will kill you! I swear I will hunt you down and kill you!" Threatening the warden probably wasn't helping his own case, but that didn't even matter to Harry. If the Council took Bob's life a second time, he didn't know what he would do.

As Morgan started to bring the sword down, Harry closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't watch this; he couldn't.

**TBC**


	11. Chapter XI: Breaking Bonds

Title: XBC

Author: Roth

Rating: T (Just to be safe)

Spoilers: Major spoilers: What About Bob, Birds of a Feather, Rules of Engagement, and Soul Beneficiary

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dresden Files (the television show or the book series). No money being made. Like most people, I work a crappy job to earn my cash.

Summary: An AU to What about Bob. I bet you can guess what happens.

Note: So this is it. The last chapter. I hope you have enjoyed, and I hope you don't feel as though you've wasted your time. May the force be with you. BYE!

**X.B.C.**

Chapter XI: Breaking Bonds

_"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday."  
-John Wayne_

Bob swallowed convulsively and closed his eyes, hearing the swish of the sword swinging through the air above Harry's desperate pleas. It wouldn't be long, and he prayed the pain would be quick. The horrid sting of the blade never came, and instead Bob felt a heavy thud on his wrists and heard the sound of metal striking metal. Cracking open an eye, Bob saw the manacles that had been circling his wrists lying in pieces on the coffee table. He looked up and saw Morgan standing over him with his sword at his side.

"Hrothbert of Bainbridge," started Morgan, using an official sounding voice, "you are hereby under strict...probation. Your sentence of an eternity bound to your skull for crimes against life is being...reconsidered. From now until the end of you life, be it a natural death or not, you will be monitored closely by the High Council. If at the time of your death your actions are..." He paused, looking as though he swallowed a bug. "Satisfactory, your punishment will be revoked, and you will be allowed to move on."

Bob's mouth was hanging open as he got to his feet. He rubbed his wrists where the manacles had been and finally found his voice. "Probation?"

"Like your little delinquent friend over there," said Morgan, gesturing absently over his shoulder. The spell that had been holding Harry to the wall disappeared, and Harry stumbled over to Bob and Morgan.

"You didn't come here to kill him?" said Harry, obviously confused.

"Trust me, if I had come here to kill him, he would be _dead_." Bob and Harry both winced at the venom in Morgan's voice.

"You couldn't have given us a little bit of warning?" demanded Harry. Bob still seemed dumbstruck.

Morgan turned toward Harry with raised eyebrows. "I had to make him see the seriousness of the situation." Harry saw a smile in Morgan's eyes; he'd enjoyed scaring the Hell out of them both. "If I had just come in here and said that the High Council was reconsidering one of their sentences and giving a doomed soul a second chance, well, it wouldn't of had the same effect, would it?" He turned back toward Bob and was about to address him, but Harry spoke again.

"The Council doesn't give second chances."

Morgan turned completely around toward Harry this time. "The Council, despite what you think, can recognize when people change." It seemed like every word was pulled from him by a stampede of wild horse. "Besides, you got one of the biggest second chances ever. Do you think you're so special that you're the only one who ever got or will get a second chance?"

Harry stared at Morgan, but couldn't think of a response. "I thought as much," said the warden. He faced Bob. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge." Bob looked up from his wrists; he still seemed pretty amazed by their lack of chains. "You have a second chance, and that is not something the Council gives lightly. Consider this your one and only warning. The Council will be keeping a close eye on you, it is a one strike you're out type of situation." Morgan ended abruptly and started walking toward the door. He paused suddenly. "Dresden?"

Harry looked up. "Yeah?"

"I'd be careful about what I say to wardens if I was you. Promising to 'hunt me down and kill me' for any reason does not look good to the Council, and remember, we've got a close eye on you too."

Harry nodded nervously. "Mind if I ask a question."

"Yes, I do."

Harry ignored him. "Why did it take a week?"

"Do you realize how long it takes to get all the members of the High Council together? It's a lot of work, and then they had to discuss. It would normally take longer than a week, but we wanted to hurry in case your friend tried to take off." Harry and Morgan glared at each other. "One more thing, just because you never mentioned the High Council's name doesn't mean I don't know about your conversation with your cop friend. I'm watching you, Dresden."

"I'm flattered," Harry scoffed.

Morgan narrowed his eyes again. "Good day." That was the last thing Morgan said before he walked out the door.

It was a long thirty seconds for a dumbstruck Harry and Bob before either of them said anything. "Now there's something that doesn't happen everyday." He looked over his shoulder; Bob was slowly reaching down toward the coffee table. "Morgan said good day. He's not usually polite like that." Bob didn't respond at all to his attempt to lighten the mood. "Bob, are you okay?"

Without responding, Bob picked up one of the broken manacle pieces with enough caution one would think the pieces would bite. He stared at the small piece of iron as it rested in the palm of his hand. "Second chance?" he muttered to Harry. "I-I have a second chance?"

"With probation."

Bob looked up from the piece and starred at Harry. "I can handle that," he said as a wary smile crept onto his face. "I can."

Harry walked over to his friend stood and bent to pick up the rest of the broken manacles off the coffee table. "What do you want to do with these?"

Bob stared at the pile of iron in Harry's hand and then took it from him. "I want to keep them; I want a reminder of what I need to do or not to do escape this."

"You're going to, Bob." He clapped his friend on the back. "I got faith in you."

Bob turned toward Harry suddenly when he heard the word 'faith' again. He gave his friend a smile. "Thank you."

Later that night, Bob was back in the lab again. He was staring at the many pieces of iron that used to be the biggest symbol of his punishment; all of them were inside a small black box. With a sigh, Bob closed the lid and placed the box on one of the shelves. It was kind of scary and almost daunting not knowing what to expect from the future anymore. Before, it had been a lifetime of a damned soul with no chance for escape; he would watch those he knew die, see the world change, and exist forever whether he wanted to or not. Now, however, well it was up to him, and it scared him. The unknown, however, was fine by him because he got something much better in return, something he hadn't had in 700 years: hope. There was no way he was going to mess that up.

"A very fair trade indeed," Bob murmured to himself. He took one last look at the box and then walked out of the lab.

_**Finem**_


End file.
